


Talk Like Crab, Taste Like People

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Adoption, Crab People, Fish out of Water, Interspecies Relationship(s), M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-03 11:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13340328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: His parents kept the truth from him his entire life but now he knows the truth. Tweek Pincherhook was adopted. By crabpeople.





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> So you wanted an update on Blood? This is what you get instead.

Tweek Pincherhook makes the trek home through the damp, mildew-scented sewers in absolute disgrace. He's so alone in the dimness of the undying red light that he can hear the single droplets of water falling from the pipes spaced throughout the route. He isn't supposed to be alone. He's supposed to be shacked up with some she-crab, or he-crab in his case, somewhere small and dark, and damp to keep their gills moist. He should be crushed in the strong, muscular claws of a handsome he-crab, held close to him, belly to belly, pinned beneath his impressive, domineering weight. He shouldn't be walking home. Not for hours, if not days, depending on how long his imaginary he-crab had planned on hugging him before shoving his gonopod inside him.

He shouldn't be dragging his feet in shame, back to his familial quarters. He shouldn't be the only crab in his age group on the sidewalk, the only crab at all on the sidewalk, really. Because it's late out, it must be nearly noon. Everycrab out there not mating should be buried in their sandpile, fast asleep.

His parents will be so ashamed of him. This was supposed to be his big chance. His first mating season. Not a successful mating, of course, they're too young for that and the couples will simply dispose of any eggs produced from the event. But as his father is fond of saying, old enough to shed, old enough to bed. Not that Tweek ever has actually molted. Ever. Not even in the normal, non-breeding sense. It's been odd, and minutely painful, seeing all his classmates shedding their exoskeletons over the last couple weeks, revealing the soft pinkness inside. They're squishy. Squishy like delicious putrid garbage or the green slime that grows along the river's concrete edges. Squishy like he is all the time.

Therein lies the problem. He is not like the rest of the she-crabs and he-crabs his own age. He's...different.

He's inherited a recessive gene on his mother's side. A fluke. A freak accident. However you want to explain it, Tweek Pincherhook has the unfortunate dishonor of having been born a soft shell.

Both his mother and his father are always trying to reassure him, tell him that there's nothing wrong with being a soft shell crab, plenty of crabpeople are soft shells. But what do they know? They both have hardy, resistant shells like impenetrable iron. Large, sharp pincers that easily break open the hardest clams. Even their antennae are better than his own, which despite being numerous are too light colored, an oddly yellow hue, and defective. He can't smell out of them. He can't even move them. They lie limp against his head, each one as thing as the spider webs that line the ceiling above his sandpile. His antennae provide no sensory input when he touches them.

His parents are waiting for him when he enters the chamber. Tweek isn't sure if he should feel surprised or not. They should be asleep in their pile of sand but they must have known he would fail. He's a failure. He only has half the limbs of a proper crab, he's a misfit. He couldn't even do the mating date right, his pincers barely clacking at all in the air as he attempted to attract a mate.

“Hello, son,” his mother greets his arrival. Her feelers are testing the air, her antennae alert. Is she trying to smell him? Tell if he had somehow managed to get through the dance, the hugging, and the copulating all in the span of a few hours?

“Hi Mom,” he sighs, trudging past her. He just wants to curl up in his sand and go to sleep. He thinks about burrowing into the middle of the pile, as deep as he can, and hiding himself from the shame of his own life, his own body.

“Unsuccessful mating, then?” his father asks, looking up from the copy of Curious Crustaceans he's reading. It's his father's favorite magazine but somehow Tweek knows he's faking it. He's not actually reading. Just pretending he is so he doesn't seem intrusive.

Water begins to leak from Tweek's eyes as he shakes his head forlornly. An unfortunate reflex of his which is ridiculous, his body should be saving its moisture for his gills. Why is he so broken? Why is everything on him a mistake? No wonder nocrab wanted him. No wonder Krill hadn't wanted him.

The thought of Krill makes more of the eye-water seep out. Krill is a he-crab he's sat behind all year in their senior metro class. He's not the most popular he-crab in class, he doesn't have the largest claws and his antennae are unusually short, but Tweek has a huge crush on him. Krill isn't into claw wrestling or scuttle races like the rest of the he-crabs in their grade, he spends most of his free time making sand sculptures downtown near Main Walk. Tweek sometimes goes there, pretending to scrounge for bits of food along the water's edge, and watches Krill. Admiring how beautiful his eyestalks are and blushing as he imagines taking the other he-crab's gonopod into his mouth.

Krill is probably holding some other, more attractive, more conventional, he-crab or she-crab in his claws right now. Would he have entered them yet? Would Krill have been overly eager for his first mating, not willing to wait the minimum eighteen hours normally required for holding? Or would they be clutching each other still? That should be him. He should be able to feel Krill's squishy, shell-less body against his own, not some other crab.

“There's always next year, son,” his father tries to sooth him. But they both know that's a lie. If you don't mate the first year your future chances drop to nearly zero. Nobody wants to mate a virgin crab on their second year. And it's not like you can hide the fact you were unsuccessful in your mating this year. All of the previously-mated begin to change blue along their claws each mating season after their first. Next year any potential he-crabs will look down and see his pathetic, soft, deformed looking pincers and they'll be pink.

“I should just join the Shellery,” he says mournfully. “What's the point?”

He doesn't consider himself a religious crab but at least as a he-crab of the Shell his chastity could be interpreted as pious, not pathetic. And he's heard they eat shrimp every day at the Shellery.

“Tweek, no!” his mother objects., waving her third and fourth arms in the air in despair. “You'd have to take a vow of silence!”

She hugs him gently with her first and seconds arms and he leans into her, accepting her hard, cold embrace. She hasn't held him in years, not since he outgrew her in height. Her carapace scrapes hard against his. Krill wouldn't have been hard. Not during mating season. He would've been soft, softer than himself even.

“Son, I think it's time we had a talk,” his father announces. Tweek hears him pulling himself off of his lounge boulder.

“Dad, I'm tired,” Tweek objects, pulling back from his mother's hug. “I just want to sleep and not come out of my sand for three days.” Yeah, three days should be good. That's when all his peers and classmates would be reappearing. If he is gone longer than a few of them they might even start rumors that he was a great and thorough lover. It could be good for his reputation! Until next year when his claws don't change, anyway.

“This is important,” his mother says. She reaches out and touches his face with her right pincers. “Your father and I have been discussing this for weeks and we decided tonight, if you were unsuccessful, would be the night.”

Tweek sighs but accepts their request for him to join them on the rock in the main part of their chambers. It's large and sits directly beneath a drizzling pipe so it's always damp. There's algae growing directly beneath the pipe and sometimes Tweek finds tasty bits hiding inside the algae. He climbs up on the rock and sits between his parents. His father pats his leg with his third arm.

“Tweek, this is going to be upsetting,” his father starts off, his voice cautious. “We don't want you to become angry with us for keeping this from you but we understand if you do.”

“It's perfectly natural to be angry,” his mother nods, her fourth pincer resting on his other leg. “But we love you and we just wants best for you, okay?”

“Okay,” Tweek says, confused by their words. What could they be keeping from him? Oh Bog, is he dying? Is this because of how sickly he is? He's always getting sick, much more frequently and severely then his peers. Goo drips from his nose and his shell becomes covered with little dots as if he's full of parasites trying to burrow their way out of him. When he's like that even his sandpile doesn't make him feel comfortable.

“We want you to live a full, meaningful life,” his mother continues, her voice slow and thoughtful“And we, your father and I, think maybe that's not possible as things are.”

“Tweek,” his father says, then he goes quiet, as if he's dreading the next few works. “Tweek, you are adopted.”

Adopted? What does he mean he's adopted? Like Tweek has adopted some weird mannerisms? He knows that! He's known that since he was a young megalops. The eye-water is only the beginning of it. Sometimes he makes weird barking noises when he finds something humorous, instead of naturally clacking his pincers together like everycrab else he knows. Sometimes his mouth suddenly opens wide on it's own and air escapes it, usually when he's tired. Then there's the remnants of one of his legs hanging between his only remaining two. It swings when he walks, it lacks a shell, and some of the juvenile crabs stare at it, perplexed.

“We're sorry we never told you!” his mother sounds upset, her voice tinnier than usual and harsher. “We just wanted to protect you.”

“What are you talking about?” Tweek asks, not grasping the situation. His parents seem upset. And his mother hasn't offered him any larvae. She always has a plate of larvae ready for him when he arrives at the chamber.

“Your mother is sterile, son,” his father says, speaking carefully. “She has a calcium deficiency that makes it impossible for her to form eggs. That's why you're an only child.”

“But,” Tweek struggles, not knowing what to say. It is true that all his classmates have many, many siblings and he has none. “I'm..I'm adopted? Where, who...”

“You're still our son,” his mother insists, crushing him in her first two arms. Her claws dig into the back of his head. “It doesn't matter who carried you, you are my boy.”

“Are my parents from here?” Tweek asks. His voice comes out sounding weird, weirder than normal even, and his throat feels full of sludge. The movement of his jaw causes his shell to scrape against his mother's harder, rougher shell. It's painful.

His father shakes his head and his mother makes a strange keening sound.

“Are they from the ocean?” He asks instead, hopefully. Maybe he's a saltwater crab. That would be a pleasant surprise. Maybe he's not deformed, maybe he's like that book, The Ugly Barnacle.

Another shake of his father's head. Another strangled sound from his mother.

“How did you get me?” Tweek demands to know. He deserves to known. Did they kill his birth parents in a territory battle?

“You don't want to hear that story,” his father insists. His mother's antennae are rubbing through his own forest of pale ones, scratching at the top of his head.

“Please,” Tweek begs. He doesn't care if they killed his birth parents, they're the only parents he's ever had and he'll still love them. But he needs to know. “I want to know.”

“No,” his mother pleads, her third and fourth arms joining the first two to encircle him. She's holding him too tightly now, he can't breathe. Is she covering his gills?

“Please!”

“We brought you home to eat you,” his father admits finally, holding his face in his claws. “We found you up above, in a dumpster, and we brought you down here so nobody would hear your screams.”

His parents were going to eat him? Tweek feels nauseous. Sure, he knew a few zoea who were eaten by their parents in pre-school but they had been defective. Everycrab knows it's best to eat defective zoea rather than let them live in misery. Wait. Tweek is defective. Oh Bog.

“But you didn't eat me,” he points out, voice shaky. He's too old to be eaten now, right? Nobody eats their young past the zoea stage.

“You smelled so bad,” his mother explains, her feelers clacking together in dismay. “You defecated and it got all over you, we thought you had gone bad. We didn't know enough about humans at that point to realize that was normal and by the time we did figure it out we were already attached.”

“Humans?” Tweek asks. What about humans? Had humans covered him whatever had smelled so awful at the time? He's never seen a human but he's heard about them, from his parents, from his teachers, giggles from his peers. They're supposed to be very ugly and weak. They live on the surface.

“Yes, human,” his father says, “Surely you must have realized it by now?”

“Realized what?” Tweek is confused. Why are they giving him these weird round-about answers?  
“That you're not a crab, son,” his father touches his shoulder with his first pincer. “Tweek, you're a human.”

“No, I'm a crab,” Tweek responds quickly. Of course he's a crab. He would know if he wasn't a crab. Wouldn't he? Surely somebody would have said something. Alright he wasn't the most popular he-crab in class, he's never had any real friends, and he can't play sports to save his own carapace. But human? “I'm a crab,” he repeats.

“Tweek, you don't have claws,” his mother says softly.

“Then what are these?” he challenges, holding up his pincers. They're weird looking pincers, split up into five pieces, but they're his.

“Those are hands. Human hands.”

“No,” he shakes his head and taps at the pathetic shells covering the tips of his claws. “See, I have shells. You said humans don't have shells.”

“Those are something called fingernails,” his father explains, reaching out to touch Tweek's pincer. He pulls away from his father's claws.

“Then how do you explain my antennae?” he demands, reaching up to grab a handful of his yellow antennae. “You said humans don't have antennae and I have thousands of them.”

“That's hair,” his mother says, reaching for his claw...hand? Whatever it ism she holds it between her claws. Unlike with his father, he allows her to hold it. “Humans have hair. It's ugly soft dead stuff like moss that grows out of their head.”

“But, but,” he struggles to come up with something else he knows he has but humans do not.

“You don't have a shell,” his father says gently. He touches Tweek's leg and runs the tip of his claw over it. His leg turns white as some of his shell is scraped off.

“I'm just a soft shell,” he insists, wincing at the pain of his father's gentle touch. “I have a shell, it's just not very thick.”

“That's skin, son. You have skin. See how soft and pale it is? See how you can see it move when you take in oxygen?” Tweek looks down and sees that, indeed, his shell is moving with each breath. “Shells don't move when you breathe. It's skin. It's like those little baby mice you like for dinner.”

“No,” he protests, starting to panic. His head is swimming, “It's not true, I'm a crab. I'm a crab!”

His mother takes him into her arms again and he's leaking eye water once more, the droplets falling with little splats against his mother's carapace

“You may not be a crab but you're still a Pincherhook,” she says sternly. “You're our son.”

“Yes, you're our son,” his father agrees, touching his back with a pincer “But that doesn't mean you can stay with us forever. It's time we introduce you to your world, Tweek. The one we took you from.”


	2. Emergence

       Tweek sleeps fitfully the night before he leaves. He had begged his parents to postpone his departure, give him a few more days, a few more weeks, to grow used to the idea. To learn what it is to be human, to figure out how to fit in. But they say he has to go now, while all the other crabs his age are stuck in the mating embrace. That it's easier to excuse his absence with the neighbors if he's not supposed to be in the family chambers in the first place.

        He has nightmares about creatures he knows to be humans despite never having seen a human in his life. All he knows about humans is they're dangerous and stupid. They're like a combination of baby mice and crab in his dreams, with those sharps things that his father had called fingernails. In his dream the fingernails are almost as long as the humans' arms and they gleam in the red light. Their teeth drip blood and they make uncrablike noises like a suffering beast.

        But he's human, Tweek thinks to himself the next morning. And he's not dangerous and stupid. Or is he? He's still young, maybe he just hasn't developed the fingernails that will make him dangerous one day. Tweek's seen nails before. They're hard, sharp things made of metal with tips that can tear flesh. Tweek once cut his claw...hand...on one pretty badly. He had been sifting through the river bottom, looking for snail shells to munch on to help harden his own exoskeleton, and he had snagged his knuckle on one of those nails that had been stuck through a piece of rotting wood. The pain had been unbearable.

        Is that what will happen to his fingernails? Will they become long and cylindrical? Will he be able to drive them through wood like some mutant? The idea is sort of fun but not if it means losing his mind.

        “Alright Tweek, do you have everything you need?” his mother worries over him as they stand beside the stairs that lead to the above ground. Tweek is holding a folded up piece of plastic with his belongings tucked away inside. Not all his belongings, just the ones he'll need up above. He owns the best can collection is all the sewers but that's too cumbersome to bring along.

        “Make sure you have that rock I gave you,” his father reminds him. “If one of them come after you then hit them with it and run.”

        “And make sure to eat the baby mice I packed you before they go bad,” his mother reminds him. “They'll make you sick if you wait until they start to grow mold. You could never stomach mold.” Her voice chokes up on the last work.

        Tweek doesn't want to leave his home. He doesn't. He knows it's not forever, that he'll be allowed to visit, eventually. But he's never left these sewers in his life.

        Except that's not true. He wasn't born here so he wasn't in them at some point. Back as a newly hatched humanling, before he had began to form memories, he was up there. That's where he came from. And he's going back there.

        He hugs both his parents for a very long time then he begins to climb up the ladder. Those things on his arms, his hands, are much better for gripping the ladder than the claws of his peers. He knows this from experience. He's always had a more sure grip than them, if not as strong. He makes it to the very top, the yellow stuff on the top of his head brushes the metal ring. Then he looks down and sees his parents watching him. They wave at him and he swallows, the eye-water coming out once more. But he supposes it doesn't matter. He doesn't have any gills to keep wet.

        The metal ring is heavier than he had imagined. He tries to push it up with his fleshy, weak hands and it doesn't budge. He turns and pushes with his back and hears it push free with a metallic thud. Then he pushes again with his hands, shoving the metal aside. It scrapes against the ground above him and he prods at it only until there's enough room for him to squeeze through the opening. He wiggles up, holding his breath and maneuvering his shoulders. He manages to pull himself out with his arms.

        He's lying on rock. It feels warmer and drier than any rock he's ever laid on before and he has to quash the urge to panic. His parents told him not to worry about this. That it's usually dry up here and not to be concerned because humans do not need to keep moist to breathe. They had also told him that it had been raining the day they found him, that is, water had been falling from above. So if water falls from above again someday they might come up to visit him. He wonders if it hurts when it falls. Is it very heavy when it splashes down? He imagines standing on the ground when a river of wall suddenly falls onto him. They said it falls from the sky but he doesn't know how high that is.

        The sky. He has never heard of the sky before. Dad said it was like the ceiling of the sewer except much, much higher. So high that you can't see it even. Tweek turns onto his back and looks up for the sky.

        It's very dark. There are no red lights helping him to see. The lights in the above ground are white and they're not very bright. They barely provide any light at all, definitely not enough to see the ceiling. There is one big one that seems to emit more of a glow but still, it's pretty pathetic in comparison to the lighting beneath the sewers. Is this what humans are used to? It must be depressing to live in such darkness.

        But he's human. He'll need to get used to this darkness.

        His body starts to tremble upon its own volition. He's up here in this dark, dry place and he's scared. It's too dry, every breath feels different here. The air feels like it's sucking the moisture from his body. He'll soon be as dried out and husk-like as a discarded exoskeleton. There's a breeze in the air. It feels warm and it smells different. Like something he's never smelled before. He can't tell if he likes it. The smell makes his chest ache.

        Tweek pulls himself up onto his leg joints and leans over the hole in the ground to look down for his parents. They're not there any longer. They didn't even wait for a last goodbye?

        A pained sounding whimper escapes his throat.

        He can do this. He can do this. This world is where he's from. He doesn't have to be scared of these animals, he's one of them. Oh my Bog, what if humans are cannibalistic? Will they be able to tell he is one of their kin? If they think he's intruding on their territory they might try to fight him!

        No, his parents would have warned him if humans were territorial. This is where he belongs. This is where humans, humans like himself, are supposed to be.

        But it's so dark and warm and dry up here.

        He resists the urge to climb back down the hole from whence he came and instead grabs at the heavy slab of metal and pulls it back over the opening. His father has told him this was very, very important to do because if any of the humans were to climb down and find them it could be very, very bad. Like, mass murder bad.

        Alright, that's done. What's next? He tries to remember what they told him to do because that sounds a lot easier than trying to figure stuff out on his own. Let's see. He's supposed to “get a job” and “buy a house” and “get married.”

        They said you definitely had to do the job fetching before the other two, so that's probably where he should start. He looks around himself and tries to figure out what a job looks like. It's so dark in this world, how could anybody ever find a job in the first place, let alone grab it? He can see the outline of different objects on each side of him. They're giant, looming shapes. But the path down the middle of them is devoid of anything at all. How strange.

        Tweek decides to go to the right because the dark outlines are close on that side. He nearly trips, overlooking a step that leads from the wide path of black rock to a thinner path of gray rock. The gray rock is smoother beneath his feet.

        He's confused by the large box-like structure when he reaches it. He's pretty sure it's made of stone. It's hard to confirm from the dim glow of the circular white light that's fastened to the sky but when he reaches out a cautious hand to touch it the structure is cold and rough beneath his fingers. It seems like a place that one should go into, like a more foreboding version of the chambers his family lives in, but there is no entrance. How do you get into it? He follows the edge of the box, trailing his hand along the surface as he loops around the corner, but there's nothing. Just long expanses of stone. Why is there no opening?

        Tweek circles around another corner and jumps, startled, because suddenly there is light here.

        And strange, tall figures huddle around the light. They're bulky and shapeless, all bulges with very few angles. It takes a Tweek a moment to realize why it's so difficult to determine what he's seeing. They're wearing clothes. Clothes which cover their arms and legs and shoulders, concealing their true shapes beneath them. This all seems very strange to Tweek. Clothes are only for special occasions, like Flushing Day or All Wallows Eve. Where you dress up in shredded algae or rip up cardboard boxes and soak the pieces in water to form yourself a glamorous crown. Vent is his favorite time of the year because during it there are forty days of feasting and Tweek gets to wear more and more elaborates clothes every Friday. He could still go back to the Shellery right? Nobody would ever know. If he was pious enough he could become a bishcrab and help with the religiou festivities. The bishcrabs wear the most elaborate costumes of all the crabs.

        However, the clothes these creatures are wearing lack any beauty or flair. Maybe they failed their metro classes? Or is the above ground just so dark it doesn't matter what you're wearing? But they have that weird orange light in the middle so they can see each other. There isn't a single speck of algae on any of them. They seem to have been formed from dried mud. If today is a holiday they must be only spending it with each other because their clothes are not good enough to be part of the main celebration.

        Still, these creatures may be helpful to talk to, because Tweek is quite certain they're humans. Right? Tweek wonders if he'd recognize another human upon sight. Do all humans have hair and the deformed third leg between their other two? Maybe this is some group of other animals. But when he begins to approach them they watch him with interest. Not like the mice or frogs below ground that always ran from him.

        But the mice and frogs are a lot smaller than him. These animals look bigger. What if they just want to eat him? His parents didn't warn him about larger animals than himself.

        Except when he gets closer he sees that two of them are clutching onto sticks, for some reason holding them up above the orange light, and the sticks have something stuck on them. Are they trying to see what's stuck to their sticks? The hands that hold the sticks look very much like his own hands. But they're not very good looking sticks, too skinny to dig up bugs in the sand, and they don't even have a flat end to scoop. Maybe his parents were right about humans being stupid.

        “Hello,” he calls out, holding up his hands so they can see that he also has hands, and because he doesn't want them to think he's challenging them. They turn to look at him, not returning his greeting. The orange light covers their faces in shadow.

        “Son, do you realize you're butt ass naked?” one of the beasts calls back. This one is one of the two holding the sticks so he must be very stupid.

        “Do you think he escaped from that loony bin up the hill?” one of the others asks, this one not seemingly to care if Tweek can hear him or not.

        “I escaped from there before,” a third announces, his voice sounding proud. Or it would if he was a crab, Tweek wonders if humans enunciate the same. “It ain't hard. But I weren't crazy to begin with. Wonder how a fella can forget to put on his britches?”

        “I won't hurt you,” Tweek calls out again, stepping closer. Some of the glow from the orange light touches his body. Somehow, the light is moving. It's dancing in the air, as if it were trying to attract its own mate, back and forth, up and down. He eyes the light. It's trapped in what appears to be a giant metal can. Sometimes cans have tasty bits stuck in the inside. Maybe there's something to eat under the light. Suddenly, he realizes he forgot the little package with his mice and rock somewhere. Most likely by the hole where he had come up.

        “Like a twig boy like you could hurt us,” another one of the figures says and he makes that same harsh, barking noise Tweek does sometimes when he finds something pleasing. It sounds very, very strange coming from another. This one is wearing something on top of his head, Tweek thinks it may be a hat. It sticks out in the front in a way a crab's hat never could since the eyestalks would get in the way. It looks very strange.

        “He might be a trap,” the second figure speaks again. “I bet he's underage. Those pigs are always trying to find a reason to throw me back in jail.”

        A trap? Like the ones his parents make to catch the little fish that run through the river? Why would they think he could catch fish? He's never caught one in his life, despite his attempts when he was small. If they thought he was a trap they might throw him into the walker to catch them fish and then be angry at him when he fails at the task. He swallows, his saliva sticking in his throat.

        “I'm not a trap,” he corrects them. “I am a human.”

        “Well good for you,” the third one makes that hacking noise. “I'm a fucking leopard seal.”

        “I've never met a fucking leopard seal,” Tweek says cordially. He wishes he had real antennae like his parents so he could smell the air for hostile hormones. Why is hair useless? “I am looking for other humans.”

        “Definitely from the loony bin,” a fifth figure says. This one is holding the other stick bus he's turned to the side so Tweek can't see more than an outline of his back. There's a weird smell coming from the light, it makes his nose tingle and more eye-water leak out.

        “Kid, what do you want?” the second one asks. “Unless you have some crack you're trying to push you shouldn't be on the bad side of town.”

        Tweek flusters for a moment, trying to remember the word. Cob? Mob? No, that's not right.

        “I'm looking for a job,” he explains once the word finally returns to him. He feels proud of himself for remembering it, it's such a weird word. “I was told I could find a job here.”

        “Is this kid mocking us?” the first figure asks. He pulls his stick away from the light and brings whatever is stuck to it to his face, sinking his teeth into it. He must be done inspecting whatever it is and decided it would be good to eat. Tweek feels queasy, the thought of eating anything when he's this nervous makes him want to throw up.

        “Why would he show up butt ass naked to mock us?” the second asks. He's holding something in his hand as well, Tweek just notices. He's been too preoccupied to really look at this human, but he's holding a stick in his mouth for some reason. A really, really short stick. With an orange light on the end that's too dim to light up anything. This human must be the stupidest one of all. That stick is absolutely useless.

        The third figure takes a few steps closer to him and finally he can see the face of one of these creatures in detail. He's hideous. He lacks eyestalks and there is no hint at all of antennae. Instead he has that soft stuff on his head instead, hair, but there's also a bunch of other stuff hanging off the bottom of his face. He looks like a moldy clam, fuzzy all around the edges. Tweek doesn't have hair on the bottom of his face, do all humans besides him have it? Or is it something else? Maybe it is mold.

        “You looking for a job, kid?” the human asks him, reaching out a hand. Tweek takes a step back in reflex. “Sure, I have a job for you.”

        The human rubs the place between his legs with his hand. He must have parasites. Tweek had parasites there once, his mother had chewed up some water plant they don't normally eat and plastered the mush all over that area between his legs. The parasites had all died off in just a few days. This human must not have a mother to chew up the plants for him. Tweek feels sorry for him.

        He pretends not to notice the rubbing. It's embarrassing to have parasites, best just not to call attention to it.

        “If you could show me the job I'd be very thankful,” Tweek says gratefully. He rubs at his head, feeling itchy. He's sure he doesn't have parasites but watching the man scratch at his own is making him feel itchy all over.

        “Sure kid, I'll show you the job,” the human says. A couple of the other figures by the light start to say something but the man shouts at them. “Kid's asking for a job, I'm gonna give him a job, shut your pie holes!”

        Tweek waits patiently for the human to take the job out of his pocket but the man says they need to go somewhere else to get it so he follows the human. The human leads him away from the light, back around the same corner Tweek had come from. They're back on the thin gray rock path. He looks for his package but it's too dark to even see where he had come from. The human walks ahead of him while he's looking for his belongings and Tweek hurries after him.

        “Where are we going?” he asks, trying to keep up with the human. The human has very, very long legs. Even with only two of them he's faster than Tweek. Maybe he's part crab, he's very round.

        “Somewhere a little more private,” the human says, not turning to look at Tweek. “God kid, you stink. When's the last time they let you have a bath up at the loony bin?”

        “Bath?” Tweek asks, testing the word out on his lips. It sounds weird.

        “Yeah, that's what I thought,” the man responds. “Cute but, Jesus fuck, bet you're glued shut with crust back there. We'll just have to stick with your mouth.”

        The words confuse Tweek but he catches the worst “crusty” and becomes nervous. Does this man know he's been raised as a crustacean? Does his smell give that away? He doesn't have a very good sense of smell, he never has, but maybe this man does and can smell his parents on him. But the man doesn't say anything else about it.

        They walk down the stone path for awhile, then they walk off the path. The ground beneath his feet feels weird. There's something tickling the bottom of them, both scratchy yet soft at the same time. Then they're at another stone box, this one a lot smaller. But it has an opening on the side! The human leads him through the large opening, they don't even have to stoop. He's back on stone now and it's very dark in here.

        Then it's bright. Brighter than anything Tweek has ever seen. He can't see. Maybe he's gone blind. He rubs at his eyes and there's eye-water dripping down them. He covers his closed eyes with his arms.

        “Kid, what the fuck are you doing?”

        “Too bright,” he gasps, feeling like he wants to claw his eyes out. “It hurts.”

        “Seriously?” the human asks.. He sounds very close. “They lock you up in the cellar up there or what? Keep your eyes closed, you don't need to see for this but I want to watch you. You're even cuter than I thought. Too bad you fucking reek."

        Tweek keeps his eyes shut. He can still see the light though, but through his eyelids it glows red. It's almost comforting. It's like the red of the sewer. He's already beginning to feel homesick.

        “Okay kid, down on your knees and open your mouth.”

        His mouth? Why does he need to open his mouth?

        “Is that where you put a job? In my mouth?” Tweek asks, wondering if a job is a type of food. If so, why did they have to come all this way? He wishes he could see, maybe this is where jobs are grown.

        “A blowjob, yeah,” the man makes the barking noise. What type of job is a blow-job? Tweek hopes it's a good kind because his father said it was important to find not just a job but a good job. He couldn't tell Tweek what one was exactly but he did say humans always said the most important thing in the world is a good job, besides getting married. Whatever that means.

        “Will a blow-job help me get married?” He asks, in case it's not a good job. He might need to ask for a better one. But surely this human knows that he'd want the best job he could have?

        “If you're good enough at them,” the man responds, “You'll have no issue getting married.”

        “Alright,” Tweek concedes and opens his mouth, waiting for the job.

        “I said get on your knees,” the man snaps angrily at him. “I can't reach your fucking mouth from here, do you want me to climb onto the damn sink?”

        “Where are my knees?” Tweek asks, starting to worry, “Was I supposed to bring them?”

        “Are you fucking serious?” The man is starting to sound really annoyed now. Tweek feels anxious. He didn't mean to annoy the man by not bringing some knees with him but he didn't know he needed to. What if the man won't give him this blow-job now? “Kid, just, god dammit. Just sit on the ground. How's that?”

        He can do that. Hopefully he can still have a blow-job without any knees. Tweek feels at the ground beneath him, making sure there is nothing beneath him, and falls back onto his rear end.

        “Perfect,” the man coos. Tweek waits, eyes still clenched shut against the brightness. There's some weird rustling sounds, and something metallic. Then there's the sound of something squeaking.

        “What the fuck is going on in here?” a voice asks, and it doesn't sound like the man. But maybe the man can change his voice like his mother does when she's trying to attract mice. She's really good at squeaking like them.

        “Am I doing it wrong?” Tweek asks, hoping he didn't mess anything up when he moved his mouth.

        “Fucking sick,” the human says. “Get the fuck out of here, you pervert.”

        “What? But I need my job!” Tweek protests. He hears thumping noises on the ground. It's the same sound he makes when he walks, a more solid and heavy noise than the clatter of clawed feel on the sewer's pathways. Is the human walking away?

        “Leave him alone, you sick fuck,” the human says again in his different voice. What's a fuck? The human keeps saying that word, is it because he's a fucking leopard seal? A fucking leopard seal must by a type of human that makes the fuck noise a lot. Like a hissing cockroach. He knew an elderly she-crab that raised hissing cockroaches for a hobby. They were a delicious but they didn't hiss when they were happy, maybe fucking leopard seals only fuck when they're upset.

        “I'm sorry, what did I do wrong?” Tweek asks, trying to open his eyes, but Bog! The light burns so much! He covers his face and tries to see from between the folds of his hands but it's not enough. He squeezes them shut again and climbs to his feet, stumbling. He reaches for something to grab but there's nothing nearby.

        Then there's the sound of more scuffling and thuds and then silence. Maybe he was just collecting the job? He hears the human approach him again.

        “You okay, kid?” the human asks. Tweek is so confused. He was just yelling at him a moment ago and now he sounds kind.

        “Did I do something wrong?” he asks, his voice shaking. Maybe he wasn't yelling at him, maybe he had been yelling at the job. Tweek would yell at frogs sometimes when trying to catch them, they're really slippery.

        “No, that pervert is the one who was about to do something wrong. What did he do with your clothes?” There's that word again, pervert. Maybe he's a fucking pervert leopard seal.

        “Could you please make the light go away?” Tweek begs, “It really hurts.”

        “The light? You, what?” The sound of the human walking away and then the brightness is suddenly gone. It feels like cool water on a thirsty throat. Soothing and cool. The rims of his eyelids feel sore.

        “Thank you,” Tweek says, blinking. He can't see anything now. Everything is black. Blacker than when he came in.

        “Are you like those kids from The Others? Will the sun kill you?”

        “I don't know,” Tweek says, moving his head around, try to see. The voice appears to be coming from a black void. “Maybe. I haven't been near the sun before, what is it?”

        “Jesus Christ, he's a fucking 'tard” the human sounds angry now, but he's speaking quietly, like he doesn't want Tweek to hear him. What is Tweek doing wrong? Why does he keep annoying this human? His next words are louder and closer but sound more gentle. “He must've snatched you from one of those halfway houses, huh? Come on, come home with me. I'll help you contact your guardian. I'm going to take off my jeans so you can wear them, nobody can tell my boxers aren't shorts in the middle of the night.”

        “Jeans” end up being a type of clothing. They're stiff and dry and Tweek can't figure out what to do with them. He tries to put them on his arms but when they go over his head there is no hole and he can't see. His breath feels hot in his face. They smell kind of nice.

        “You're a real special one, aren't you?” The “jeans” are tugged off over his head once more. He had thought it had seemed black in here but once the jeans are off he realizes he can see just a little bit, just a small outline of the figure before him. Was he that tall before? “Come on, let's go outside so we can see better, I'll help you.”

        Something touches Tweek's hand. It's soft but firm. It reminds Tweek of a mouse. Is it the other human's hand? Is he trying to challenge him to a duel?

        “I don't want to fight you,” he cries out, pulling back. He doesn't want to lock claws...hands. His back bangs against something behind him, touching only his lower back, and he cries out in pain.

        “I'm sorry, do you not want me to touch you?” the human asks, his voice sounding further now. Tweek struggles to see the outline of the human but it's gone.

        “Are you going to hurt me?” Tweek asks, feeling behind him. He's trying to figure out what's pressed against him. It's cold.

        “No, of course not. Can I touch you here?”

        The hand goes to his arm joint. He doesn't feel any fingernails. Can they pull them in? Tweek doesn't know if he can but he never had any human around to show him how to.

        “As long as you don't try to pinch my arm off.”

        “Jesus Christ,” the voice repeats. But the hand stays and Tweek lets himself be gently pulled after the human. They go through the same opening they came in through and Tweek can see the white dots in the sky again, but the large circle is gone. Did the bulb blow? The human leads him through the darkness, just a vague shadow in front of him. It seems like they may be lost because they keep turning but one turn leads to a light in the distance. It's high up, like the red lights in the sewer usually are, but brighter. The human leads him to the light, stopping a distance from it so they're not directly below it.

        “Is this okay?” the human asks. “Does the light burn?”

        Tweek shakes his head.

        “Okay, now pick up one leg. I'm going to help you put these on.”

        Tweek watches the human, wondering if he somehow molted why they were in there. The hair-mold has disappeared from his face and he seems smaller, yet taller. Maybe he hadn't been as fat as he had looked before, he was just squished into a shell that was too short. It's a good thing he molted. Everycrab he knows says it's really uncomfortable to be stuck in a shell that's too small.


	3. Hot Water and Craig

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest here with you guys. I've had this chapter hanging around on my computer for over a week and I didn't post it because I was hoping I'd be stuck with inspiration to make it funnier. It didn't happen. I'm running outta crab-based humor here so it'll probably start to become more serious from here on out. (Not angsty just not stupid)

The next twenty minutes are confusing and terrifying. First, the human dresses him in that strange clothing. Tweek is used to clothing being loose and decorative, sometimes barely draped around the waist or shoulders. These clothes are tight around his leg joints, unyielding, and if he were a normal crab they would get in the way of scuttling. Maybe it's the absence of exoskeleton that causes the need for such clothing. Something to cover a human's natural softness.

Then the human leads him to some large, strange object that's long and solid looking. At first, in the dim lighting, Tweek thinks it is a giant, bulging rock, but it's some sort of human-made thing, he thinks. Not as big as the box-objects but still way too big to pick up. The human creates an opening on the object by grabbing a small section jutting out and just prying it open like a can. This scares Tweek because whatever the thing is, it's definitely heavy, and this human just uses its super strength to grab a piece of it and just peel it off.

Then once Tweek had climbed into the middle of the thing, like the human asks, the creature tells him to put on his “seat belt.” So much clothing! Tweek wonders if all humans have to wear belts just to sit down or if today is a holiday. Either way, he looks around for a thick, decorative belt to cinch around his waist. Preferable one with shells weaved into it because those are his favorite. He likes the clinking noise they make when he walks. When he can't find a belt the human seems to become angry once again, making an annoyed snorting noise through its mouth, and ties him to the seat instead.

Being tied to a seat inside a large object is terrifying and Tweek is just starting to think this is all some sort of trap to eat him when the world around him suddenly begins to shake and a bunch of green and red lights appear before him. Again, not bright enough to illuminate anything, except the ones that appear in front of large object because those hurt Tweek to look at from here. He cries out in both fear and pain, not sure which feeling is worse.

“Put these on,” the human says, poking at his arm joint with something cool feeling. Tweek takes something small and black from him, it looks sort of like two oyster shells attached in the middle. The human said put them on so is this yet another piece of clothing? How do humans even walk, covered in endless ceremonial garb. Unsure what to do with them, he tries to center them on top of his head, thinking it must be some sort of hat. The human snatches the oyster shells back and somehow extends them on the sides into two sticks and magically attaches them to his face. Everything turns darker, the lights in front not burning his eyes any longer.

“These are amazing,” Tweek tells the human. What kind of oyster shells are see through? “They made the lights go away.”

“Well they're not Ray-Bans or anything,” the human mutters. “Two for twenty at the kiosk at the mall. You can keep them.”

After that they begin to move. They're not walking. They're not swimming. Or scuttling. They are just moving and the big heavy thing they are in is moving too. Tweek can't help it. He screams. Loud and continuous. This human ties him to a seat and then makes lights appear and then makes this giant object float around. He must be a pinczard or even a metromancer to perform such magic!

“Shh,” the human says. It touches Tweek's leg joint, scaring him as he waits for the human to attack him. He doesn't even notice that he goes mute with fear. The human doesn't move its hand. It feels much lighter than a claw, and softer.

The object floats back towards the stone path that Tweek had walked on earlier, the black one not the gray one, and keeps in the middle of it, gaining speed. It's absolutely terrifying. More terrifying than being tied up in this thing in the first place. The sides are made of something clear. At first Tweek hadn't realized that, he just thought they were open spaces. But his head hits something when he clutches at the side of the object in fear. He doesn't like the clear areas because he can see out them as stuff passes by him quicker than he can focus. He doesn't even have time to adjust his eyes to various lighting and distances. And then something else with lights as bright as their own starts to storm towards them. His breath catches in his throat as it moves closer and closer, covering hundreds of feet in seconds. Tweek trembles, waiting for the other lights to slam into them, but then it moves past near the human's side. It makes a loud roaring sound.

When the object finally stops Tweek is huddled into the corner of his seat, eyes clenched shut, trying to concentrate on his breathing. He thinks he might be suffocating. Even without gills he can't get enough oxygen.

Then the human peels open both sides of the thing, unties him from his seat, and pulls him out of it. He's scared to move. What if it suddenly shoots backwards as he's trying to climb out and rips him off at the leg joints? But the human tells him it's okay and that he doesn't want to hurt him.

“This is my house,” the human says. “I'm going to take you inside. It's three in the morning, you need to get some sleep.”

“House?”

“Where I live.”

Oh, like a chamber. Tweek was right because the human leads him into one of those large box-like objects like the one the other humans had been standing behind earlier. This one also has no opening, not like that one with the blinding light, but he pulls open part of the wall and ushers Tweek in with a hand on his lower back. He's definitely a pinczard.

“Stay here, I'll turn on the kitchen lights.”

Tweek does as the human says. It's too dark to do anything else. He can't see his hands in front of his face. A light appears in the distance, throwing a glow over the floor a great distance around it. It's like the light from that other “house,” maybe even brighter, but it's far away and with the oysters on his face it looks dimmer.

“You probably can't see with those,” the human says, taking his oysters away. Tweek panics and grabs for them. The human lets him hold them. “I need to clean you up before I let you in my bed. I'm sorry dude but you smell like, really bad.”

“Thank you,” Tweek says, touched by the human noticing his smell. He was always told he had very weak stench glans. Another reason finding a mate was so difficult. But hopefully this human isn't smelling him because they're looking for a mate. Tweek's night has been much too confusing for mating. It might not even be human mating season anyway. Do humans mate the same time of year as crabs?

They go up something that is sort of like the ladders in the sewers but not so vertical and with much wider rungs. Tweek is good at normal ladders but this tilted ladder makes him feel like he's going to fall forward. He gives up and takes them on all fours, finding it easier to use his hands for guidance. His butt is high in the air to help with balance. The human walks beside him, the ladder is wide enough for two people to climb at one time, and climbs the rungs on only two legs. If they were on a normal ladder Tweek could probably beat him to the top. It becomes darker the farther they move from the light near the bottom.

The human leads Tweek into another dark place and again tells him to stay still, asking him to put the “glasses” back on. Tweek has never heard that word but there was only one thing he was wearing that he isn't still wearing and that's the black oysters. He struggles with them in the dark, feeling along the sticks and trying to find that little grooved part in the middle that goes over the bump on his face. His mother had told him the bump had come from an accident as a baby where his father had pinched him for being bad and it had grown over with scar tissue. The humans have the same bump. Tweek wonders if his mother lied to him.

There's a thumping noise and the sound of the human moving around again. A light appears but it's not as bright as the one downstairs.

“It's my old lava lamp,” the human explains. “Not the best light source. Take off the glasses and tell me if it's okay.”

Tweek removes the oysters. The light is brighter now but it doesn't hurt. It's a purple-red color, not the same red as the sewers, but close enough he finds it soothing. Familiar.

“I like red lights,” he tells the human.

“Good,” the human bears its teeth at Tweek. Tweek takes a step back in fright. His teeth don't look sharp but surely that's a threat.

“I don't think I asked your name,” the human says, “I'm sorry, I was busy. My name is Craig. Craig Tucker.”

“Tweek. Tweek Pincherhook.”

“Pincherhook?” the human, Craig, asks. Craig's face contorts to one side, the part above its eye raising. “Did you pick that name yourself?”

“No,” Tweek says, confused. That's not how names work. You don't name yourself. Do humans do that? “My parents named me.”

“So you do have parents?” the human asks. “Are they mean to you?”  
“My parents were the best parents in the world,” Tweek says, his voice defensive. “But I can't go back to them now.”

“Oh,” Craig's voice goes soft. “I'm sorry. It must've been hard, losing them with your...condition. Come on, a hot bath should make you feel better.”

Tweek watches the human go over to a large white stone with a hollow in the middle. He recognizes the spigot immediately, he grew up surrounded by pipes and spigots. Craig turns it and makes water come out. Is a bath when you defecate then? Tweek doesn't need to go. He went before he left. The sound of water falling is loud on the white stone.

“Now I have to ask you to take off your clothes,” Craig says, turning to him. The human's voice is coaxing. “I'm sure you've always heard not to do that for strangers but I'm not, oh, um, good.”

Tweek removes his clothes as Craig's talking. He doesn't need to release his bowels but he can try if it will make this human happy. The weird long clothing on his legs takes tugging to remove, it's much tighter than any clothing Tweek has ever worn.

“I'm not sure if I can defecate right now,” he confesses as the human takes him by the arm joint to lead him into the stone's hollow. It's larger than he thought, giant. They could probably both use it at the same time. He hopes humans don't do that. That'd be gross.

“Please hold it if you can,” Craig says. “I don't want to have to clean out the tub.”

Craig doesn't want him to void his bowels in here? What's the point then? He put one foot onto the stone.

Oh. The water feels warm. Really warm. Hot even. Tweek stares at the spigot in confusion, wondering how it comes out so hot. It feels oddly nice. He climbs the rest of the way in and crouches down into his defecating position.

“You won't be fully covered like that,” the human says. “Sit down fully.”

He's just supposed to sit in the water? What's the point if you're not swimming? Humans are insane. But he adjusts himself, falling back onto his bottom with his legs straight out in front of him. Some parts of the stone feel cold but the parts where the hot water is touching are okay. He keeps his limbs away from the sides.

The human takes a seat on another piece of white stone across from this one. It's smaller but taller. Tweek feels weird being watched so he looks down and watches the water fill up the basin. It's a good stone, no holes in it, and the level of the water keeps rising.

Craig stands up and walks over to turn the spigot after awhile. The water is high now, covering Tweek's let joints and feet. He runs his hands through the water, enjoying the heat. He expects the human to go back to the other white stone but the human stands next to him, waiting for something. Tweek feels prickling on his back. Discomfort. He looks around trying to figure out what he should be doing. He grabs the nearest thing near him, a stick of some sort. Maybe he's supposed to make a dam? Are humans like beavers? They have hands like beavers.

But the human grabs the stick from him.

“You'll hurt yourself with that,” the human says. Tweek likes the human's voice. It doesn't sound like a crab voice. There's something about it that is almost smooth. Like stagnant water. Before it becomes infested with larvae. “Do you need me to help you?”

“Yes, please,” Tweek nods. The human drops down onto its leg joints and reaches across Tweek to pick up what appears to be a large, pink can. It dunks the can into the water and then upends it over Tweek's head. He squeaks in surprise.

“Sorry,” the human murmurs. “Too hot?”

He shakes his head, confused. His anten-hair slaps against the side of his face. Some of it touches his eye and he winces. The human's hand reaches up and moves the hair from his eye.

“You have really long hair,” the human says. It dips the can again and pours more of it over Tweek's head. “Do they not cut it?”

“Cut my hair?” Tweek asks. “Wouldn't that hurt?”

“No, it's just like the hair that grows on your chin or, um, down there.” The human's skin appears to darken, though it's hard to see with the light on the other side of the chamber.

“Down there?” Tweek asks, confused. He hasn't seen an antennae appear anywhere else on his body.

“Between your legs,” the human explains.

“Oh!” Tweek says, suddenly realizing what it means. And what the human had on its face earlier. “I thought that was a fungus? What happened to your face an-hair? Did you molt?”

The human is quiet for a long moment. It dips the can into the water and pours it over Tweek's head several times. He wonders why it's so important that his head is wet. The human's breath comes out strangely.

“I cut it off,” the human says finally. “Like they do with yours.”

“I didn't have any face hair,” Tweek objects.

“Tweek,” the human says, setting the can on the side of the stone. “How old are you?”

“I'm eighty-two seasons,” Tweek replies. “I think. I might be eighty-three.”

“You're eighty-three?” the human asks skeptically. Now the human reaches across Tweek again and picks up a bottle. The top pops off and something white is squeezed into the human's hand. It makes a sound like defecating. “How did you get out there tonight? Were you taken?”

“I was told to leave,” Tweek says. “I need to find a job so I can be a good human.”

“They threw you out and told you to fend for yourself?” the human asks. It reaches its arms out for Tweek and Tweek flinches but the hands are not aggressive when they touch his head. He thinks the human is petting him.

“I couldn't find a mate at home,” Tweek explains. “I'm a human and humans need jobs and houses before they get a chance to mate.”  
“Not all humans,” Craig tells him. “Close your eyes.”

Tweek obeys without asking why. It must be another part of this ritual. He feels the human's hands rubbing harder on his head. He feels tingly. Then more water is cascading over him. He tries to open his eyes.

“Keep them closed,” the human barks at him. “I'm going to do a repeat. Your hair is filthy.”

His eyes hurt now. He closes them and tries to ignore the pain. He thinks water might be coming out of one of them now but it's hard to tell with the water pouring over his head. Craig stops and he hears that same sound. The the hands are back on his head. Tweek can hear the human muttering to itself, something about meds and caretakers.

“Alright, done,” Craig says. “Open your eyes. You have enough natural grease in there I think we can skip conditioner.”

Tweek opens his eyes. One of them still hurts. He can't help it, he reaches up to rub at it. Now the human is holding something square in its hands. It looks like moss.

“Are you a he-human or a she-human?” Tweek asks. “I'm a he-human.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” Craig says dryly. “I'm a he.”

That was probably rude to ask, Tweek realizes too late. He never would've had to ask a crab which gender they were. But Tweek doesn't know how to tell humans apart, he hasn't seen enough. He wonders if it's easy? Maybe she-humans are different colors or have extra legs.

The human touches him with the moss now. It's soft and wet and leaves behind white foam on Tweek's skin. He looks down and watches the human's hand rub the moss all over him. Maybe he thinks he has parasites. The moss might be a parasite remover. He doesn't fight him, doesn't tell him he doesn't have to worry about him having any.

“How long have you been on your own?” Craig asks, talking to him as he continues to touch him. “Where did your clothes go?”

“Just today,” Tweek says, then he points at the clothing on the ground. “And my clothes are right there.”

“Those are my clothes,” he says. Tweek is saddened by that news, he thought they had been a gift, but they weren't easy to put on anyway.

“I guess my clothes are back at my old home,” Tweek shrugs. “Do I need some?”

“You can borrow mine,” Craig says. “Until we get you some of your own, anyway. You're a lot smaller than me, we'll get you some that fit. Here, take this.” The human holds out the moss square. “I don't feel comfortable touching you between your legs, can you do it yourself?”

Tweek nods and takes the moss. It's heavier than he thought it'd be. He follows the human's example, rubbing the moss anywhere that the human hadn't touched. The human makes a weird noise as he gets up on his leg joints to clean his back end.

Afterwards, Craig turns on the spigot again and pours new hot water over Tweek. He hadn't noticed but the water inside the stone got colder because this water feels hotter. Then he asks Tweek to get up and helps him climb off of the stone.

The human is holding something large out to him, he thinks it's another piece of clothing, but it ends up being an even large piece of moss because he repeats what he did with the smaller piece, wrapping the entire thing around Tweek's body and vigorously rubbing him all over with it. It's dry, not wet like the smaller piece, and feels softer. He rubs it against his hair and then leaves it there, draped over Tweek's head. It feels very heavy on top of him and makes his neck hurt. He doesn't remove it though. Maybe this is part of taking a bath. Testing your neck strength.

He hands him another stick, longer than the first but fatter.. Tweek waits for him to grab it back, like he had the first one, but he doesn't. Craig puts a second stick in his own mouth and rubs it against his teeth.

“Brush your teeth, like this,” the human says. Tweek follows his example. There's white stuff on the stick that burns his mouth. He spits it onto the ground before he can help himself.

“Sorry, Clyde always buys the cinnamon kind,” the human says, using the moss to wipe away the white stuff on the ground. “I know it's kind of spicy.”

“It hurts,” Tweek complains, feeling pathetic. Maybe the burn goes with the neck weight as part of his strength test and he's failing. Humans are so weak and soft, he shouldn't be able to be defeated so easily!

“Yeah, I know, sorry. Here, give me the toothbrush and we'll rinse it off. Here, brush it with just water for now.”

He rubs at his teeth with the stick, it makes his gums hurt and he tastes blood. Eventually, the human takes the stick back and says, “Let's go get some sleep.”

Sleep? It's the middle of the day. But Tweek is worn out from everything that's happened. Sleep might be good. A nice mid-day nap. Maybe all humans nap in the middle of the day.

“What about my job?” he asks nervously. He was told he needed to find one before doing anything else, he shouldn't be sleeping. He'll wake up and not have a job so he won't be able to eat then he'll have to find a job on an empty stomach.

“Don't worry about it right now,” Craig tells him. “The grocery store usually hires people like you, we'll try finding you a job there.”

“Okay,” Tweek concedes, wondering what a grocery store is. Hopefully it's a good place to find a mate. He wonders if he'll like he-humans like he liked he-crabs, or maybe he'll like she-humans.

The human leads him from the small chambers, telling him to be quiet when he starts asking him more about the likelihood of this “grocery store” having a good job to give to him.

“They're used to me coming home late after stargazing,” the human says, “But my roommates aren't big fans of being woken up in the middle of the night. Wait until we're in my bedroom.”

Craig leads Tweek into another chamber. This one is bigger than the last one and the floor feels soft and warm under his feet. Really soft. Maybe the softest thing Tweek has ever felt in his life. Even softer than the big moss the human had just been rubbing him with. Something glows blue in the corner and he's surprised to realize whatever this thing is it's full of water and small fish! Maybe a fish trap? The fish inside it are small and few though, so why wouldn't he just eat the fish and be done with it? Why leave such a small snack for later?

It makes him drool. He wishes he had remembered to bring him baby mice with him. Maybe the human will share the fish with him, if he asks nicely?

He leads Tweek across the chamber to something rectangular. He pulls back the top of it and tells Tweek to get in. Tweek does as he directed, stretching his legs out in front of him as the human climbs in next to him. He stretches the top of the object back over them again. It's soft too. Maybe as soft as the floor. He can't tell. The part under his head feels especially soft.

The human is soft too. He can feel him, this Craig, touching him. Their shoulders and hips bump lightly together, and the human whispers a soft “Sorry” which Tweek doesn't understand.

“I know I should just buy a double,” he tells Tweek, “But I'm poor and my old bed works fine, usually. I promise I won't do anything to you, just go to sleep, okay?”

A double? Why would a human need two places to sleep? In case one of them starts to grow mushrooms?

Tweek just nods and obeys the human's orders, but it's hard to sleep without the cozy feeling of being buried in sand. It takes a very long time and he stares at the fish from across the chamber as the human makes odd whistling sounds into his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna hear me discuss my girl-boner for Napoleon or listen to me bitch about how busy I am with work and school my Tumblr is @hearteworm


End file.
